Inaccurate Textbooks
by flaafo
Summary: Contest for the LJ community Kouchagumi. Hong Kong pens his life between East and West. Heavy hinting of England/China, though no "official" pairings.
1. Chapter 1

I'm trying to write this story for the sake of remembering it.

Not because I want to. Not because I find it amusing. I just don't want to forget.

It's difficult being a British territory.

My name is Hong Kong.

* * *

Author's Note: Confused? I hope you are. This is for a fanfiction contest. And yes, this is the first chapter. It is only forty words long (not including my A/N), and it will be added to as much as I possibly can, Chapter by chapter.

This is the beginning of a struggle between two headstrong nations and their boy.


	2. Chapter 2

I'll have to explain my life before ever being involved with the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. It's not much.

There were three major imperialistic nations ruling the world back then; Russia, China, and England. I happened to be under China's rule, starting around 220s BC. I had been doing quite fine living by myself, but under China, I did so much better. He protected me and showed me different things, like fishing and trade. I relied on those quite a lot.

China also took in other nations; I certainly wasn't the first. That was Japan. I always thought Japan was the favourite of China, the way he coddled him, but Japan never made any attempt to take advantage of it.

Then there was Taiwan. She was about my age, I believe, but we never interacted much, because she hung around Japan a lot; I think she had a fondness for him. She even lived with him (though this was because Japan, after leaving China, took some sort of control over her. Stockholm syndrome, maybe?).

Korea wasn't around often, but when he was, he always attempted to get as close to China as possible, usually through hugs. China disliked this very much, and would politely push him away every time. Never stopped him from trying.

To be honest, China took in a lot of nations, being somewhat of a surrogate parent, strict, but meaning well.

He tried teaching me Mandarin Chinese, showing me the different characters and how to say them. I didn't like it, and I created my own language instead. I used the exact same characters, but I spoke them differently. Cantonese. China gave up teaching me Mandarin, and left me to my own devices.

I heard Japan did the same, though he completely rewrote his language and the characters.

The point being, China was trying to be an important part of our lives. The sad part is? We all took it for granted.

China gave us such nice things.

Nice didn't even cover it. The clothes were made of hand spun silk. The palace in which we lived was covered in jade, gold, silver, and whatever else China saw fit. There was porcelain and pottery and all sorts of rare treasures around.

It was more then nice.

Then again, China was away a lot (imperialism and trade). So more often then not, us little ones would take care of each other. Everyone had a task. It rotated quite a lot, though. Sometimes Taiwan would cook, other times I cooked. It was really up to whoever volunteered for it.

And it felt right.

* * *

One day, while watching China quarrel with Russia from behind his fence (neither knew what the other was saying, so really they sounded like they were throwing random words out to each other; I swear I heard China yell "Your mother is a strawberry!"), someone came to me.

I instantly recognised him as England. China had mentioned enough times the description of him: blonde, green-eyed, had an air about him that you instantly notice—and then he had prominent eyebrows.

That was the first thing I noticed, of course. I then noticed how immaculate and well-dressed he looked. Black boots, ruffled shirt, long overcoat, and a hat adorned with feathers and even some jewels. Nothing like me (I was in street clothes for the time being; they were hand-me-downs and full of holes and covered in dirt).

At the time I was fishing, so after getting a quick look of him, I turned back to the water's edge and continued to my task. I snagged something on my line. It turned out to be a black carp, and a pretty decent-sized one at that.

When I pulled it to shore to put it near my pile of other freshly-caught fish, I caught England staring at me. Or rather, staring at my fish. So I decided to pay him some attention.

I turned my body to him and waited for his move.

He said something to me, and I didn't know what he was saying at all. Maybe China kn—

China was too busy yelling at Russia to go away.

I shook my head at England, frowning and trying to make it clear to him I did not understand.

He then pointed to my fish.

"What about them?" I asked. It was his turn to frown. He didn't understand me, either.

"Fish," I said, pointing to the fish. He nodded, so I continued with my charades. I looked at him with question, and he said something to me again, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small velvet bag, a deep purple in colour, with gold drawstrings.

What was in it? My curiosity was obviously piqued, so I stayed quiet while he fished something out of the bag.

My eyes widened as England held up a silver coin. He smiled, and then held his palm up to pour the rest of the contents of the bag into it.

There was a lot of silver. Quite a lot. I wanted it, and England knew it. He pointed to my fish again.

So he wanted trade. Fair enough.

I nodded and cupped my hands together for him to drop the coins in. He carefully, daintily, put the coins back in the velvet pouch, one by one, and handed me that instead. He then picked up the fish, tipped his hat to me, and left.

I looked back to where China was—where China wasn't. Where did he go?

"China!" I called. "China! Look what I've gotten!" I called out.

"Yes, aru?" China called back. He sounded close; at least, not inside the palace. I ran to where I heard the voice, and sure enough, I found its owner. China was standing (I assume he was walking and stopped to wait for me) with his hands in his sleeves, a small smile on his face.

"You know that England person?" I asked. China nodded and signaled for me to continue. "I was fishing when he came up to me and offered me this." I held out the bag.

China gingerly took the bag and undid the drawstrings to look at the inside. "Oh my, aru," he cooed. He was interested as well. "And you say you got all this from England?"

I nodded eagerly.

"This is beneficial to me. I will have to offer something more…useful to England than fish, aru. At least I know he's interested. Thank you, Hong Kong, aru." His eyes were glittering with satisfaction.

"I was a bit surprised he wanted to trade, to be honest," I said, looking down at my feet.

"England has shown interest in my goods before, aru," China replied, a small smile painted crookedly on his face. "I'm sure he knew he could get to me through you. So long as he pays well, I will consider trading with him."

"So I did well?" I asked.

"Very well."


	3. Chapter 3

After that, China relied on me a lot to trade with England. Of course, he would personally speak with England every so often (once or twice a month), but their conversations were private.

I met with England every other week.

He had made the effort to at least learn a little Chinese, so I made the effort to speak English.

"_Hello,"_ I greeted him one day. Every time I spoke English he cracked a grin from my accent. As if he could speak Chinese better then I.

Our meetings were routine. He would ask for a specific item on day X, I would mention a price (in silver. China didn't have much interest for England's wares, and oftentimes only asked me to request silver), and we would haggle. Then the next meeting I would have the items and he would have the money, and the process would repeat itself.

But today was different.

"I don't have enough silver," England said in broken Chinese.

"Don't have enough?" I repeated (correctly). "What do you mean?"

"_I don't have enough,_" he repeated, though this time in English. "_It's difficult obtaining silver."_

All I heard was "something something something _silver_." I wasn't supposed to accept anything but silver, since that was what we agreed upon, but, much like our first official meeting, England pulled out a small velvet bag—this time crimson.

"_I do have this, though._" He kept his voice calm.

"_That is what?" _I asked, my gaze incredulous as I clutched the small box of black tea to my chest. It didn't look like anything valuable.

"_This is opium."_

"_Opium?"_ I parroted. What on earth did I need that for?

"_It's a drug that—"_

"_I know what it is,"_ I interrupted. I wasn't stupid. "_I want opium why?"_

England looked at me up and down. I had grown slightly since we first met; I almost reached his shoulders. I was wearing much finer clothing (thanks to these trades), and I actually filled them out, thanks to being a bit healthier.

He smiled, softly, at first, but then it turned into an unabashed grin.

"_Well, I thought that you might enjoy this substitute for my lack of payment. I'll even give you this for free, and come back tomorrow with your final proposition. Does this sound fair?"_

I was able to piece enough English together to know what he was saying. "_I still do not understand. I want opium why?"_

"_China seems to find a use for it, though he doesn't want to admit to this." _His grin was wider. "_Go on, take it."_

I heard "_China," "use," _and "_take," _so, naturally, I took the bag. England then fished around in his coat again and pulled out a pipe. It looked worn down, like it was used excessively. He shoved the pipe in my hands and almost made me drop the bag. That scared him a little—no. It scared him quite a lot. Apparently the opium was worth more then I had originally thought.

* * *

Opium. It was a powerful drug. But I never mingled with it, because China forbade it. Once he caught me with some I had found in his room, and I received a smack by his slipper. I daren't go into his room again after that.

I didn't pay the opium any thought after that; I guessed that he was just protecting my health.

* * *

I looked at England, then at the velvet bag, then at England. He didn't make a motion for the tea in my grasp, so I guess I had to trust him with his offer of coming tomorrow.

"_Tomorrow, then?"_ he asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"_Yes,"_ I replied, nodding my head in affirmation. With that, England turned on his heel and left, his coattails fluttering behind him.

I watched him for a brief moment before looking down at the opium-filled bag, then the pipe. Wait…..Wasn't there supposed to be a lamp that heated the opium? If anything, China had one in his room. But that meant going into his room, and risking the chance of being beat soundly again (and justly so).

I decided to take the chance, anyways. Besides, curiosity gnawed at my insides.

…

China wasn't in his bed chambers, much to my relief. It looked like it was used recently though, what with the sheets on the bed disheveled and the throw pillows tossed to the floor. Hopefully he wouldn't return for a while.

I set the box of tea and the pipe down, still clutching tightly to the crimson bag by the drawstrings. China would want the lamp to be hidden. So first I checked the bureau; if the opium came from England, maybe it was in English furniture.

No such luck.

Then I checked the less obvious places, such as under the bed and behind paintings (in case there was a safe?).

Still nothing. I was probably going to have a better chance giving up the search for the lamp and negotiating with England to—

I tripped over one the rug's upturned corners, revealing a loose floorboard. Maybe this was where the opium lamp was.

I bent over to move the floorboard, and sure enough there it was. I took it out of the hollowed-out cavern, replaced the wooden board ever so carefully, and made it look like no one was even there. Picking up the pipe from the dresser, I found a corner of the room where I could lay comfortably and take the drug into my system.

* * *

I didn't notice China standing over me for quite some time. When I did notice him, he didn't look happy at all. But thanks to the drugs, my body was numb enough to not care.

It was sickeningly wonderful.

After my punishment (five cracks of the bamboo rod across my backside; it didn't hurt because of the opium), China demanded that I tell him what I was doing with the Opium and I why I took it from his room.

"But all I took was the lamp," I corrected. China faltered.

"What do you mean by that, aru?" he questioned, hand tightly gripping my shoulder—partly because I could barely stand myself.

"England gave me the opium and the pipe." I felt myself sway, and if it wasn't for China keeping me up, I would have just fallen and fall asleep right then and there.

"England…..gave you…?" China was talking to himself, it seems, so I didn't answer. All I knew then was that the effects of the drugs were ebbing and the lashings were beginning to sting.

"This is unacceptable!" China left my room to go confront England about this. I, in the meantime, crumpled to the floor and felt no need to follow China. I was just so...tired. I didn't notice my eyelids getting heavy, and the last thing I remember before blacking out into sleep was thinking about how nice the opium was.

No wonder China wanted to keep me from it.

* * *

"Hong Kong."

I was shoved by someone...Feminine voice...Taiwan.

"Hong Kong," she repeated, more urgently.

"Hm?" I sat up. My body ached, party from the way I had slept, partly from the opium. "Yes, Taiwan?" I heard the slow drawl of my own voice.

Taiwan narrowed her eyes at me. "China is very upset with England. He forbade you and him to exchange anything but silver. What on earth happened?" Her voice was high with nervousness and concern.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around the room. It was actually my room I was in now, not China's. Had he carried me?

"Where is...?" I asked, avoiding her question.

"China and England are discussing something," she informed me, tapping her foot in frustration. "What happened?" she repeated.

I looked to the floor in embarrassment. She had caught me between a rock and a hard place. "England gave me something he shouldn't have," I said. This made her curious.

"What was it? No, what _is _it?" she asked, her eyes a-twinkle. I shook my head no, but doing that made my head hurt, and I groaned in pain. This only made her curiouser.

"Oh, Hong Kong, you _must_ tell me, now!" she reasoned, crawling onto my bed and leaning her whole body into me, her hands on my legs and her face in mine. "I need to know! Really, I do."

I watched her expression for a fleeting moment, her dark eyes growing darker as time passed.

"Fine," I sighed breathily. "Drugs."

* * *

And now England had hooked not only China and me, but Taiwan as well. China didn't know that his subordinates were smoking it, though. We kept our meetings hidden from him.

I traded every other day with England, as normal, and China still met monthly or whenever, and our trades were strictly with silver (which meant England bought less), but England and I had devised a way to trade in secret. He would give me a note hidden among the silver coins of what he wanted, I would smuggle it from the palace or wherever it happened to come from, and I would leave it in a hidden area. The next day, where the item was, there was opium. I relished these moments of finding the opium, because it meant China had not caught wind of our illegal trades.

I have to take a moment to say that if you think England seems like a horrible person for getting children addicted, your thinking is marred. I knew perfectly well what I was doing was wrong, and so did Taiwan. We took the risk, anyways. He was just doing trade, finding what interested us.

I had become a drug addict.

* * *

And then. Then, on the eighteenth of March of the year eighteen thirty-nine, China and England were officially at war. I had caused a lot of the problems leading to this, like going behind China's back, against the laws prohibiting the opium, and feeding my addiction with slander and lies.

England won. It had taken only three years.

I was there when China was forced to sign the Treaty of Nanjing. China wasn't able to write well, because England was able to wound China with a bullet to the shoulder, but he managed.

"The reparations..." China muttered, looking over the paper once he had signed it, "They-"

"Six million silver dollars," England mentioned, noticing my presence (or maybe he had known I was there all along), "and three million from what Hong Kong owes me." He leaned over the table, his hands folded over one another. "Twelve million in compensation for the cost of the war itself."

"That's...That's twenty-one million dollars, aru." China's face had gone pale.

"Don't forget," England continued, "I now own-"

"Hong Kong," China finished, his eyes flickering to me for a second. "Is that all, aru?"

Is that all? Was that really what China had just said? I would have lashed out in outrage at how I was being passed so easily, so carelessly, like I wasn't worth the trouble.

"_Come here,"_ England called to me in his native tongue. China had apparently already signed my life over to the victor, and was watching me through narrowed eyes, expecting me to obey.

I did. I didn't want to, but I did.

"_all shall be granted." _China said, now in English. "_It is settled—it is finished."_


	4. Chapter 4

"_You're going to have to speak English at some point,"_ England said, trying to reason with me. I responded the same I did for the past thirty minutes.

"No."

"_Come, now. I have candy."_

"No."

"_Toys?"_

"No."

"…_Opium?"_

"No."

"_You don't even understand me, do you?"_ England's patience was clearly at its end.

"No." I had a pout on my face. Even though China had betrayed my trust, and had so easily given me up to England, I still missed him, and wanted terribly to go back and run into his arms. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted so much. But not this.

I was in new clothes. Itchy. Westernized. I pulled at the collar, which was choking me. Why were these clothes so close to the body? What I wore back…back home…They were free-flowing. It wasn't my home anymore, apparently.

"_Look," _England growled, "_You're under British rule, now. I expect you to act it. What you're doing now is childish. How old are you, again? Certainly not a toddler."_

"No."

England threw up his hands in defeat. "_Fine! Fine, have it your way. Fine by me. Don't eat. Don't sleep. Don't do anything. You can do whatever you want. But you're still a British territory. You'll come to love your new home, just you wait."_

"No."

Truth be told, I had absolutely no idea what he was saying to me. I only could pick out a few things. I was just repeating 'no' over and over because he could not tame me. He would not tame me; I wouldn't allow it.

England left me in my new bedroom. It had very little in it, just a bed, a dresser for my clothes, and a closet. It was so sterile.

I felt so small and unimportant, then. It was the opium talking. England had been trying to wean me off it, not giving me anything. He said something like, '_cold turkey'_ whatever that meant.

Whatever it was, I wanted to just die right there.

* * *

I stayed in my new room for a while, lying motionless on the bed. It must have been hours.

But my stomach growled out in protest. I hadn't eaten for a few days, and the effects were finally catching up. I was famished.

I did the most logical thing to do—I crawled out of my room and went to look for England.

He was sitting in an armchair, reading a newspaper and paying no attention to me. I slunk over to him and tugged at his sleeve.

He hummed questioningly, not knowing who it was. "_India? No…No, Hong Kong. What is it?"_ he asked. Wasn't India another one of his territories?

"I'm hungry." I frowned. He frowned back at me.

"_In English."_

My stomach replied for me. It roared and gurgled. England chuckled. "_Hungry, are you?"_

I nodded, understanding his question was about my food pangs.

"_If you ask me in English, I'll make you something to eat,"_ he said, setting his paper down on his lap.

"What?" I knew what he said. He wanted me to ask him for food in English. How selfish. I wasn't about to lose this fight, though.

"_Stop using that filthy language around me, Hong Kong." _England's tone was sharp and commanding. "_You can speak gobbledygook for all I care, but not around me. Speak English."_

I would have protested to this unfair treatment, but rather then disrespect my elders (China had taught me better then that. I faltered occasionally, but I tried my best not to), I stormed out of the room and away from England, back to my blank, uncultured room.

I broke down in a day.

"_England, I am hungry."_ Those words weren't even mine. They were foreign. I was speaking them, but it was like a virus attacked my body, a virus that ate away my will to fight.

"_There's a good lad. I knew you would snap out of this rebellious phase soon enough. What would you like?"_ England had a pleasant expression on his face, smiling down at me. I stayed sour.

"_Anything."_

_

* * *

_

It was, to say the least, horrible.

But I ate it, anyway. I don't even know what it was. I just knew I wanted more.

England pet my hair sympathetically, but I swatted his hand away and made a low, guttural sound of disapproval.

"_Alright, boy. No need to get hostile."_ He walked over to the burner in the kitchen and pulled a teapot away from the heat source.

I watched him through wet eyes because of what he was doing. It was so similar to what I used to watch every day. I felt sick. I felt disgusted. That was China's teapot.

And I had smuggled it for England.


	5. Chapter 5

I had no real choice but to learn English. I fought every step of the way.

"_Just repeat what's in the book,"_ England said, more stern then last time.

I stared at the page for a moment, then rolled my eyes and read the fairy tale out loud in English.

"_This was only a dream, my love! Then the old woman hid me behind a cask, and hardly had she done so when the murderers came back home, dragging a…A…"_

"_Maiden."_

"—_maiden with them._" Actually, I was quite proud with how fast I was learning. Apparently what I was reading now, _The Robber Bridegroom_, was a story from a German collection; the Grimm Brothers, I think. I had already read halfway through the book, and England was surprised with what little trouble I had reading in English. Just because I hated the English language didn't mean I wasn't smart.

England patted my hair, signaling me to continue. I did so, only pausing to sound out a few words.

"_Good, good. We'll read another story later, hm?_" England looked quite pleased, whereas I looked disgusted. He apparently didn't notice, and left me at the table, satisfied with himself.

When he was out of earshot, I threw the book across the room in frustration, and cursed out every bad word I could think of.

"_You're upset._"

"_Clearly,_" I replied, wheeling around in my chair to see a young woman (she was India). She had a unique beauty to her, that you only saw once, maybe twice in a lifetime. Her eyes matched her hair, dark walnut in colour, and she looked at me as if she was picking apart my soul. Unlike the other territories, who broke down and conformed to every little thing England wanted, India still had her fight. She didn't wear England's clothes, she spoke in her native tongue (except when to converse to other territories; it was our only common ground), and she broke out into a fight with England whenever possible (sometimes physical, but usually verbal and moral). She was, in short, a ticking timebomb.

"_What causes you to act as such? You listen to England, and you do what he says, but you look so scornful when you do it. You want to fight him, but you were brought up different, weren't you?_"

She was partially correct. China raised me to be respectful of my elders, but I still had a vendetta against him. It was sort of my stab at China's teachings.

"_What of it?_" I asked, more then a bit upset. She laughed at me with her eyes, her expression, however, still serious.

"_You are not the only one who is upset by the outcome of what had happened. Did you know that?_" She picked up the book from where it had fallen, leafing through the pages.

"_What are you suggesting?_" I asked now that she had my full attention.

"_Have you seen how England's gone from being a brash, happy-go-lucky dictator to a brash, not so happy-go-lucky dictator? Why do you think that is?_" She continued looking through the book, like this conversation was a waste of time.

"_He lost money._" My answer wasn't as convincing as I thought it sounded, because India laughed dryly.

"_You cannot be so naïve,_" she sang, throwing the book back to me. I caught it with little difficulty. The corner hit my sternum, however, creating a dull pain which made me wince.

"_Tell me you are not naïve,_" she commanded, her voice flatter then before. "_England and China were obviously more close then that._"

I narrowed my eyes in contemplation. I already knew China had held England in high regard, but India's tone suggested something more. I stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"_Alright. How about this? Every time I was sent in place of England for trade with China, I was always received with a melancholy smile and an '_oh well_' to go with it._" She finished her sentence with an exposed tongue and knitted eyebrows.

I knew what she was implying.

"_Even so,_" I said, standing up and striding over to her, "_Why would England be upset with this? I have heard he won the Second Opium War, and now the cards are played in his favour._"

"_But at what cost?_"

India took a long look at me, made a small "Hmph!" and sauntered off, leaving me quite confused.


	6. Chapter 6

From then on I looked at England through a new light, one that I didn't fully understand myself. Maybe it was respect, maybe it was fear of being treated so horribly (I watched how he acted towards other colonies under his control; I never even **saw** Australia), but whatever it was, I did what I was told and never talked back. I always spoke English, even when muttering to myself in pain, anger, self-pity, whatever arose.

What China had taught me was all but forgotten.

That's what made what I heard on a Saturday afternoon so out of place.

World War II. Not a day went by without being England missing from the house, allies of England in the dining hall for a meeting, both, neither, this way, that way, all sorts of ways.

However what happened took place earlier, before the war really started, when tensions were mounting.

It was supposed to be a day England rested. He promised me he'd manage at least Saturday afternoons to keep to himself relaxed (it rarely happened), and he actually could unwind that day. There were no meetings, no planning, no fighting, nothing was supposed to happen.

But something did.

I was picking up things around the house when I heard a particularly loud sob, followed by a bunch of incoherent string of words, foreign to me.

I knew who was talking. I knew it was a bad idea to make sure my assumptions were correct. Then again…

I dropped whatever was in my hand to poke my head through the doorway. There was England, reassuring a disheveled China. I was surprised to see China wearing what looked to be England's shirt, which I thought was strange. I noticed the cuts and bruises along China's skin and the red patches that managed to seep past the bandages and gauze and through his clothes. It wasn't fresh.

He was tripping over his own words, trying to explain to England _something_ that had happened to him. The trouble was I had no idea what he was saying, or rather, I had quite a huge difficulty understanding. Being around England for so long, I hadn't bothered to exercise my use of the Chinese language. I paid close attention, trying to remember even the smallest amount.

I heard Japan's name (mixed in between bitter thoughts and unintelligible words) and 'death'. Had Japan died? No…I don't think so. Japan wouldn't have died so easily. I started thinking about the two's relationship with one another. It was very rough. Certainly something had happened between the two, something big enough to cause China to act so out of character.

England seemed to not notice the upset China, speaking in a business-like tone about whatever it was they were discussing. However, he would occasionally put his hand on China's shoulders for a brief moment, or run his fingers through the other's hair sympathetically.

I turned to leave before I was caught.


	7. Chapter 7

I don't really want to talk about the aftermath of World War II. The gist of it, however, was Japan attacked December 8th, 1941 and I surrendered Christmas day. Black Christmas. Although England had helped, it really wasn't enough.

To the victor goes the spoils, and I was passed to Japan by England. I was beginning to sense a pattern. I wondered who else would "own" me.

For three years and eight months, I dealt with it. I remembered that conversation I eavesdropped on, the one between China and England, and knew now exactly what China was so upset about.

Three years and eight months later, I was given back to England (though there was some opposition) shortly after Japan surrendered due to America's bombing.

I returned to England a mess, but I recovered surprisingly well. Soon, I was well enough to where England left me well enough alone to continue with my old routine.

One day England left for a meeting, but he wouldn't explain to me what it was about. Normally he would tell me, and I would give him advice, for he was teaching me in the trade of business. That day was completely different.

"Were are you going?" I asked inquisitively. I was received with a simple head shake no.

"Not today, Hong Kong, I'm late," England brushed me off rushing out the door.

No matter. I would just wait patiently until his return. His return happened to be very late, about two AM, give or take several minutes.

"Hong Kong? Why, for God's sake, are you up at such a late hour?" England asked as soon as he noticed me sitting in the arm chair, clearly still awake (though quite tired).

I rubbed my eyes to keep the sleep away. "When I asked you were you were going, you replied with 'not today', and that was...well, technically yesterday."

"True...But that doesn't mean you should have waited up for me," he scolded, pulling me up from the chair and leading me to my bed. I didn't protest, but I wasn't exactly happy with the idea, either.

"Well then tell me where you went," I bargained, "And I'll go to bed without protest."

"You little scoundrel, I get nothing out of that deal," England jested, but his attitude changed. "Well, I went to go see China."

Changing out of my dayclothes, I asked the first thing that came to mind. "How is he?"

"Could be better," England admitted. "Well, our discussion was...About you."

I paused from crawling into bed. "About me?" I parroted. "Why?"

"Uhm," England started. It never was a good thing when someone started with "Uhm" in an uneasy tone. "Uhm," he repeated, messing with the buttons of his coat, "How would you like to know you'll be going back to China?"

"Is that what the meeting was about?"

"It was about setting up a date (among other things), yes."

"So I never was going to stay with you permanently, was I?"

England didn't say anything. I assumed what I asked was true, but there was always that nagging doubt.

It was silent for a few more minutes, so I asked another question. "When?"

"The first of July. 1997, actually. The date was arranged a while ago, but we went to discuss other things. I'll tell you more in the morning. Just go to sleep now."

He left my room and I was left in the dark, figuratively and literally.


	8. Chapter 8

And so the day came. Of course I was nervous. Anyone would be. I also felt like I was betraying England. It sounds odd, but I did. He did his best to take care of me in his own "unique" way for 155 years. I kept track.

Today it would end.

"Alright...Uh...Blast, how do I talk to you about this?" he mumbled to himself, pacing a bit. I stayed silent. He was probably more nervous than I was, given the way he was stuttering.

We were standing outside his house. I can't call it "our house" anymore, because I'm not a part of it. Currently I'm homeless. I don't belong to China yet, and England's ready to give me up.

"You...you...Just behave, alright?"

"Yes sir."

At this England's expression softened. "Oh, don't be like that," he said, messing up my hair and motioning for us to leave, "It's not like we won't talk ever again." I suppose he was right, but I still had worry sitting in the pit of my stomach.

The car drive was extremely long. Or maybe that was my imagination. Whatever it was, it felt like it would go one forever.

When the car stopped, I wished it had gone on forever, just so I wouldn't have to get out. But when England got out of the car, I got out of the car. When England walked up the path to a well-kept garden, I followed. And when England bowed to China, who was looking critical of the gesture, I bowed as well.

China muttered something under his breath so quick I couldn't make it out. Finally, he spoke to England; his English was heavily accented.

"You know you're late, aru," he said. Not a hello. Not a compliment. Just criticism.

"Sorry about that. There was traffic, and I have no control over that as you know," was England's reply. He was about as curt as China.

"_You are a [...] and I cannot [...] bastard." _There was a time when I would be able to understand that no problem. But my Mandarin had given way to English.

"_Hong Kong, [...]?" _Was China asking me a question? Did he want me to walk over to him? In either case I said nothing and stayed where I was.

I could feel his gaze heavy on me. It was all the more reason to not look up and meet that gaze. "I see you've taught him English manners, hm?"

"I beg your pardon?" England asked, obviously a bit confused by the Chinese himself.

"He does not answer me."

At then I decided to meekly walk over to China's side. I heard a withheld sigh from England finally escape. "Well, he's yours now. You happy?"

I risked a glance to China. "After all this time? No, England, aru. I will never be happy. Not with a constant reminder of what you've done, of how things were handled, aru. I hope you realize that in giving Hong Kong back to me, the British Empire is officially no more." He put his hand on my shoulder. "_Come, Hong Kong."_

I took a final backwards look to England as China led me away. He put his hand to his ear and mouthed the words "Call me." I nodded.

China continued to speak to me in his native tongue as we walked further from England, pausing momentarily to see if I was following. I nodded every so often as if I could understand, allowing him to continue. During his speech, I couldn't help but notice the clothing China was wearing. It was westernized. And then I realized something.

China may have control over me, and the Empire may be gone, but I am still a British territory.

* * *

A/N: Well, I'm done. I hope you all enjoyed this. I know there's probably historical inaccuracies, but I wanted to portray Hong Kong as the one part of the People's Republic of China that, although it's technically China itself, is something completely all its own. It's gone through a lot of things that makes it unique, and I like the character of Hong Kong in Axis Powers Hetalia; he happens to be my favourite (even if he's not really a character yet and only has character sketches/a few lines in the drama CD). Enough of my rambling! I hoped you liked it, and maybe when it comes time to it, you'll vote for it in the England/China livejournal community fanfic contest!


End file.
